Blood Red Ruins
by Muffin-Bunny
Summary: Post-series. Nezumi returns to find No.6 in ruins with two opposing side fighting over the remains. Assuming Shion to be dead, Nezumi joins one of the sides. Eventual NezuShi. Rated T for blood and character death. I can't write summaries.
1. Prologue

Hi! Ok, this is my first No.6 fic, so please be gentle! (Eh? I seem to have come up with my own plot. How did this happen…?)

Right, about the thing you're about to read: some stuff. I'm thinking this will end up long-ish. No idea how long that means though… It's post-series, but I think it's more based on the novels than on the manga or anime, only the person at Nostalgia On 9th Avenue hasn't finished translating it yet, so there might be some things that don't fit with the canon because of it. So sorry in advance for that.

Warning: Contains blood (uh… the title kinda says that…) Yeah I'm going for gore with this one! Sounds like fun! :D (Wow I'm such a sadist sometimes… with not much emphasis on the "sometimes")

Disclaimer: I do not own No.6, or I would be Atsuko Asano, so would be a much better writer than I am, also NEZUMI WOULD NOT HAVE LEFT AT THE END LIKE A MORON!

Ahem.

Onto the prologue!

_~B_**l**_o_**o**_d-_**R**_e_**d**_-R_**u**_i_**n**_s~_

Nezumi found rubble at his feet on returning to No.6.

The city Shion such shining hope for, hope for a better future for all people involved, not just the elite. Hope that the citizens could learn from the past; that monstrosities like the Correctional Facility could now only remain as delusions in the minds of those who were mad, far too ambitious for anyone's good, or both. That city that Shion had fought so hard to save from destroying itself now lay in ruins.

_Shion._

Nezumi knelt down and picked up a piece of rubble lying on the ground. Had he survived? Could he have survived? Had he been wrong had he had seen that picture in the newspaper, filled that day with news of nothing but death? The picture that had stopped his pulse then returned it immediately, intense, hammering, agonizing, to his chest. When he saw it, what had he thought? _Oh God Shion Don't be dead Don't let that be you Don't let that be your blood Don't be dead Please Shion LiveLiveLiveLiveLive Don't be dead Shion-_

But who else could it have been? That bloodstained limb, flopped over the rubble, one end stuck under a rock, the other end bloodied and broken, torn off, making it impossible to tell which limb it had been. The red stripe running along it regardless of the blood half-covering it, the lighter red of the scar standing out from the blood's brighter, vibrant gleam. That red mark that Nezumi knew so well, had seen more often than he could remember, and had traced idly with his fingers so many times; he would not see it where it wasn't, or be blind to it where it was. It couldn't be anyone else.

_-Please Shion Even if it is you arm or leg don't let the rest of you be trapped there too Please Shion Don't be dead LiveLiveLive- _But Nezumi knew it was in vain. The sheer weight of debris, the amount of blood: Shion couldn't survive that. He hadn't escaped, no-one could have done.

Nezumi's fingers went limp. The rock dropped **(1)** to the ground. Small creatures moving among the ruins went on with their lives, none caring that the boy's cheeks were wet with salt water again for the first time in years. Three years to be exact. Since he left Shion. _That airhead made me go soft. I want to see him._

Nezumi blinked away the tears, letting them fall down his cheeks, as his senses noticed a presence nearby. _Old residents of the West Block?_ Of course. The West Block escaped the fighting largely unscathed, but after the Manhunt of three years ago, what was there left to be scathed? The people who had survived the Manhunt would have been the fittest and cleverest the fastest and sneakiest. They were still the ones left here now.

The presences now surrounding Nezumi closed in softly; working together? He was at a clear disadvantage. He had to get out of the circle they were making now; nothing good would come if he didn't. Even if Shion had died, Nezumi would survive. A pile of rocks to his right shifted, small stones cascading down a slope of rubble; Nezumi's would-be hunters were getting sloppy. He had to take the opportunity when it was here.

He ran; a gap in the circle, out, away from an easy death. Ends of curses reached Nezumi's ears as his pursuers broke their cover to follow him. Having gained a sufficient lead, he searched for cover. Eyes scanning the landscape saw rocks, ruin, disaster, but there, half of a wall still standing! He changed course, earning him more curses from the people following him. He turned and slammed his back against the wall, knife flickering into his hand, sunlight glinting off the blade as firelight does off the grinning fangs of a starving demon, ready for the kill.

However long Nezumi had been away from No.6 and the West Block for, neither he nor his blades had lost their edge.

~_B_**l**_o_**o**_d-_**R**_e_**d**_-R_**u**_i_**n**_s_~

To make it a bit clearer, part of No.6 was destroyed, not all of it, most of the West Block is ok (as ok as it can be), but Chronos has gone, but none of the fanbase really cares about Chronos, so that's fine I guess.~ Stuff should become clearer later on.

**(1) **When I was writing this bit, I was so tempted to add "like a stone" here, but it would kinda ruin the mood huh.

Just to warn you, I'm horribly slow at updating: I barely ever get internet on my laptop and that's where I write new chapters. So sorry in advance for that too.

I update faster with reviews! (hinthint wow I'm so subtle…)


	2. Are We Waiting Here?

Chapter One- Are We Waiting Here for Catastrophe?

Massive thank you to everyone who reviewed and alerted and whatnot! I'm not completely happy with this, but you people deserve an update for being made to wait for this long, so here ya go! Sorry for the month wait for this chapter. I have no excuses. Sorry. I'll try to update at least once a month from now on, but I am me so… Plus I've got evil important exams soon… Argh I don't have enough time in my life!

Also, I'm naming chapters using lyrics from Los Campesinos! songs. That one up there is from 'Ways To Make It Through The Wall', which is weirdly appropriate for No.6.

Disclaimer: Do I own No.6? I'll give you a hint: the answer is one syllable, and rhymes with avocado. Ditto with Los Campesinos!

~_B_**l**_o_**o**_d-_**R**_e_**d**_-R_**u**_i_**n**_s_~

Nezumi winced slightly from a jolt of pain as more blood oozed from his arm. The lightly freckled bright-haired girl tending to the gash in it smiled slightly, apologetically. "Sorry, I'm not used to dealing with wounds like this yet." Nezumi stayed silent, thinking of the child who had never seen a bullet wound before, but had stitched a stranger's shoulder back together nonetheless. The girl seemed to take this lack of response as encouragement to keep speaking.

"My friend would have been better at this than me; she was a real genius. But then again, she wasn't brilliant at everything. She always thought about things too scientifically-" Nezumi tuned the girl out. Although she was the kind of person who wasted words, a practice which Nezumi would forever be opposed to, there was no point in antagonising her towards him while she was cleaning out the wound in his arm, leaving him feeling vulnerable. The wound was long, stretching from his wrist to his elbow more or less, but shallow, the bullet having only grazed him. It was, however, refusing to clot, close and heal, preferring to bleed incessantly, so had left traces of Nezumi's blood forming a trail, like breadcrumbs, that lead back to where he was attacked. The bullet had been coated in anticoagulant, necessitating it being cleaned and then sewn up, which, although it was a familiar situation to Nezumi, would be far more unpleasant than the last time, due to a lack of anaesthetic and medical supplies in general. The only consolation that Nezumi could gain from the event of having a bullet engrave a gash along his arm was that, while the owner of the knife had been distracted with his temporary victory, Nezumi had lodged his knife firmly under his assailant's ribs, ripped it through the man's flesh, and then taken the gun and turned it on the man's allies.

The five people trying to kill him hadn't been too bad to fend off; it had been easier than fighting Inukashi's dogs at any rate: the people fought as separate entities, not taking responsibility for keeping the others alive. The second of Nezumi's assailants had been finished by a slash across his throat during a lapse in concentration caused by seeing the insides of the first man's skull spreading sluggishly across the ground. The third attacker had inflicted the wound in Nezumi's arm, but had come out of the encounter barely breathing, bleeding out on the rubble through the rent just under his ribs. The final twos' torsos had met bullets from their comrade's gun, which had ceased their attack, but in a moment of sympathy, Nezumi had gently run his knife across their throats just afterwards, granting them swifter, less painful deaths. He had used the gun one more time: to shoot the wrists of the man who had injured him, hastening the man's death enough to ensure that he would be found dead, but not enough for him to die swiftly. With the gun dangling dismally from his hand, Nezumi had walked away from the countless bloodstains, trailing new red stains on the ground as he did so. One person out of the original five had been left still alive, but bleeding out through his wrists, gasping for breath through a punctured lung and grasping for life that was already out of his reach.

He didn't care.

Those people had been living in the West Block after the wall fell. They had been the ones fighting. They had caused the people who still clung to vestiges of power in No.6 to become nervous. They had made those people use their power and, using the weaponry they had accumulated before the "Holy" Day, bombed the Lost Town and some of the West Block, where most of the fighting was centred, as well as some Eastern parts of the city. Shion had died in the bombing. The people who had fought were the reason that he was dead. Nezumi couldn't forgive those people.

When the bombings happened, two years after Nezumi left No.6, he had been travelling between cities; he didn't know they had taken place until six months afterwards, when the news sang with tales of the city half a year on from the further destruction caused by forbidden weaponry. Most stories had been speculation, travelling to and from No.6 had been very hard since the catastrophe of the Holy Day. Nezumi had searched for facts, truths about what happened, any information he could gather, pausing only to wonder ironically how much easier it would be if Inukashi were there. He found an article in an old newspaper, preserved digitally as all newspapers accounts of the past were in No.3. He never read the words in the actual article, his eyes drawn instead to the mangled limb in the picture accompanying it. Until then he had, well, some would call it hope, others clutching at straws, but if Nezumi had seen anyone else react in the same way to something, he would have called it ignoring the facts. _Shion was living in the West Block, visiting Inukashi with the baby, or Rikiga, for the day. He was living in the underground room being needlessly sentimental over the Tsukiyo and the books with a slice of his Mama's cherry pie. He wasn't living in the Lost Town, he_- But Nezumi knew that Shion, with his damn half-developed Oedipus complex, would have been with his Mama. Nothing of the Lost Town had survived.

Nezumi now learned from the girl tending his arm, ("Ann" as she had smilingly introduced herself "Nice to meet you.") that the explosions had just resulted in more violence, a collapse of the semblance of order that seemed to have been put in place before. More people hiking their long way to the city; some had come to loot, steal and take advantage of the lack of control, others who arrived later came in search of loved ones living in No.6. The original residents of the city and surrounding areas had banded together against the invading forces. This group of people went by the name of the 6th Block, while the newcomers to the area also formed a group, albeit some grudgingly, but due to the fact that the members of this group changed, while people never joined or left the 6th Block, they had no collective name. These people had made their base out of a series of buildings that had survived both the Manhunt and the bombing, but as a result were quite far from the city.

Although Nezumi had lived a large proportion of his life in close vicinity to the Holy City, he would not be able to persuade any members of the 6th Block of this fact; he had no choice over which side he would have to join. Since everyone arriving at the ruined city joined the others who also had not lived there previously, survivors from the West Block had learned to kill any person they did not recognise, which included newcomers to the area, even if they had not yet met the 6th Block's adversaries. Members of the 6th Block indentified themselves by the fact that they all had strips of red cloth wrapped around their arms, making it easier for them to tell ally from enemy.

A tentative tap on his shoulder brought Nezumi's mind back from his thoughts. Ann held up a freshly threaded needle. "I'm about to start sewing, ok? It's probably going to hurt quite a bit, but it'll be over soon." A fresh stab of pain jolted a wince from Nezumi, followed by his eyes closing and a small sigh. This would take a long time…

~_B_**R**_R_~

Meanwhile, in the ruins of the once-great city, animals were stirring. A long-haired brown dog ran along a deserted road, its pants and the sounds of its feet hitting the cracked tarmac echoed dimly off the nearly-whole houses and shops that had escaped the worst of the bombing. The dog paused for a moment at a dark doorway of an abandoned house, head cocked to one side, before padding quietly into the building, making its way up the stairs to a room on the upper floor. A girl with long dark hair partially spread across her face greeted it with a pat on the head and gentle words. She murmured to the animal in a low voice for a few moments; it snuffled equally quietly in response, still panting a little with its tongue just poking out of its mouth.

The girl nodded to the dog once it fell silent save the panting again, and scratched it between the ears, watching the way its eyes closed slightly in enjoyment when she did so. It had brought her information: a new recruit for the invaders, one that had managed to kill five of their own, no less. After a moment more of petting the dog she stood up, preparing to leave the building. It was in better condition than the hotel in the West Block had been, but was still, decrepit and in need of repair as a result of looting and neglect. As she crossed the room, her feet scuffed over layers of dust. If she tried renting the rooms now and Shion had seen the conditions here, he would probably complain at her again that she wasn't treating her guests correctly. He would just complain, and try to persuade her to change her ways, probably without success. She laughed briefly, harshly, imagining the way he would have unintentionally shot large red kicked-puppy-dog eyes at her when she refused to do what he wanted. The laugh was still only brief, as she remembered what had happened to the boy.

Pulling a cloak on and a hood over her head, the girl prowled out of the house, flanked by two dogs. Once she was sure the coast was clear, she sped up, the dogs loping gently beside her. Before too long, she had reached the site where the Moondrop used to stand, the hexagonal patterned framework surrounding it now torn down, leaving a regular building in its place. She and her dogs entered with no struggle: the guards at the entrance recognised her instantly. How ironic, that when the city had been great, revered by many she hadn't even been able to enter it, but now it was in disarray, on object of fear to the other cities, she was free to roam unopposed. She made her way through the corridors until she reached the door she sought, from behind which she heard a voice talking to itself. More battle plans?

She pushed her hood out of her eyes as she shoved the door open, her dogs following as she entered the room. The man sitting in the room looked up at her. "Yes?"

"There's a newcomer in the area. He took out five of our men, but they hurt him pretty bad and he had lost quite a bit of blood last my dogs saw." From what the dog had told her, the fifth man had been good as dead anyway, so she saw no reason to say it any other way.

The man's eyes didn't change, still looking slightly lifeless, lacking the spark of curiosity and fascination in everything that used to be there. He nodded briefly then turned back to his book, gesturing with his hand for the girl to leave.

Inukashi, still watching the man, again wondered what had happened to the boy she once knew. The man before her had the same red eyes she had known for years, the same weird hair, he still had a book sitting beside him that he had been reading to the mouse on his shoulder before she came in, but it was the _look_ in his eyes, the _tone_ of voice he had used, that made her sometimes regret what had passed between them, the regret nagging at her like one of her family when they were hungry, only the regret could not be placated in any way: the damage had been done and could not be reversed. This man had become a harsher person, so much about him was different to the gentle way he had looked on everything, or the caring way he used to speak, even to her dogs while tenderly rubbing soapsuds into their fur. The man before her was so remarkably different to the boy Inukashi had known that sometimes she had difficulty thinking of them as the same person. Yet the man before her was still Shion, the same weird, confusing, unpredictable, fantastically airheaded Shion she had known for years, only now he was the man leading the 6th Block into battle.

~_B_**l**_o_**o**_d-_**R**_e_**d**_-R_**u**_i_**n**_s_~

And I've finally got all of the plot-points down that I should have put in the Prologue! Also, sorry for "6th Block", I'm too tired to be creative.

I've got a couple of questions for you people to answer this time (I probably _should_ do a poll, huh?).  
>1) If Nezumi and Shion died at the end of this, how would you feel on a scale of "meh, I don't care either way -_-" to "OH MY GAH Y U DO THAT? ;A; *flame-flame-flame*"?<br>2) Since all the people in Nezumi's group have never lived in No.6 and I hate OCs, I'm gonna have to bring in some people from some other series. Would you be ok with that? I already know which people I'll use if you say yes, but they won't have very big parts.

Reviews are like friends: if you eat them, they die, but are still appreciated when they are there!


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